


Oh, my love, my heart

by D20Owlbear



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Available to Podfic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-10-20 18:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: A short cross-posted from my tumblr. Prompt: mercy kill (warning, main character death)"Just like the universe started with a whimper instead of a bang, so too did Crowley’s universe end."





	Oh, my love, my heart

Just like the universe started with a whimper instead of a bang, so too did Crowley’s universe end. Soft, silent tears fell from hidden eyes and Crowley knelt beside the one creature- _entity, being, _**anything** that he loved, in this whole and all-encompassing way. Sure, he loved HER, but in the way a forgotten child still clings to hope of an absent mother they’d never really known. But Aziraphale? Aziraphale was his _everything_, had always been there with him, had always been available and amenable. But now he was suffering, the holy sword still in his back that he’d taken in Crowley’s stead. Always protecting him, the worthless, demonic him.

He’d fallen forward, and gently as he could the snake demon pulled the sword from Aziraphale’s side and - for whatever reason the holy blade didn’t burn him. And he couldn’t help the bitter thought that filled him, that he’d prefer if it killed him physically just as assuredly as what he had to do would kill the rest of him. Aziraphale’s soft, encouraging eyes fell on him and met his own through the glasses and the angel placed a gentle hand over Crowley’s on top of the sword.

“Good form.” The angel whispered, more mouthed than caused any words to leave his lips, “I love you. Thank you.” Crowley quickly learned to hate short sentences. They weren’t enough. And, without further thought, he plunged the sword through the chest area, slightly to the wrong side, and caused the angel he loved to die by his hands. The sword fell through flesh terrifyingly easy, like a hot knife through butter, and it made him sick. He threw the instrument of destruction away from them like it burned, but the blessed- damned- _something-_ sword didn’t, like the Almighty had made some terrible exception.

The breaths he didn’t need to take stuttered painfully in his chest and a physical ache settled in his corporeal form’s bones and the angels and demons around him paused for a brief second at the pure anguish one being could project.

“No, no, no, angel, that’s not allowed, no angel, my Angel, no.” He begged and pleaded under his breath, the limp body of Aziraphale growing cold rapidly held in his arms against his chest, his face buried in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. He continued for a time, even after the angel had fully left the body. Not discorporated, if only, if only, that had been the case.

Picking up the body, Crowley stood and left the battlefield. There wasn’t anything left for him to fight for. After he’d turned his back on everything he cried out in the purest prayer any of the angels or demons had heard in a truly long time.

“Why?!” And, with that, the battle resumed all for the Great Plan, but nothing for the Ineffable.

**Author's Note:**

> For more tags see me on tumblr as D20Owlbear!
> 
> For the purpose of this fic, holy weapons are weapons that interact with the incorporeal and therefore can hurt anyone as if physical/Human reactions, though do more damage to the unholy/demonic or by it's aura/touch, doesn't necessarily have to be the bladed end.


End file.
